


On Call (when your heart won't answer)

by ArgentSleeper



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, M/M, Pining Arthur, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's slipping away, and Arthur's not sure what to do but be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The depiction in this fic is based on personal experience and not meant to be generalized.
> 
> Each chapter is meant to be an ending, so you can stop whenever you choose, though I hope you continue to the end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arthur thinks nothing of it when Merlin calls him at eight that night. They haven't spoken much in a while, both of them busy with work and their respective lives. If this just happens to be when Merlin was free, it works out fine for him. Arthur had just been about to sit down to a late dinner –okay, fine, it was just leftover takeaway; he really had been busy!– and is perfectly fine with shovelling Pad Thai while alternately telling Merlin about his week between bites.

And if Merlin doesn't let him hang up for an hour, well, Arthur doesn't exactly mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Arthur met Merlin was when he came in to discuss his new book –well, technically the first time was when Merlin spilled coffee on him outside the underground that morning, but Arthur always did his best to forget that. After slogging through that month's dozens of Rowling wanna-be’s, Arthur had read Merlin's manuscript and didn't want to immediately drown himself. That was enough to call the man in for a meeting.

The meeting had started with a "You!" and an "Oh God, I'm never going to get published now, am I?", dissolved into "Bloody hell, you're a right prat, aren't you?" and "No wonder this is the fourth place you've tried if you talk to your superiors like that!" and somehow ended with "Join me at the pub later for a pint?" and "Only if you don't spill that on me, too."

With little effort at all, Merlin had quickly become one of Arthur's closest friends. It wasn't that Arthur was a lonely man before, far from it, but Gwaine never shut up, and Leon never spoke up, and despite his claim that he never listened to Arthur, Merlin knew how to do the give without expecting too much from the take.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin calls him again the next week, which suits Arthur fine because he's just had a hilarious transcript come in about a duck that falls in love with a penguin –it’s cleverly titled _Birds of a Feather_ – and he has to share it with someone. Out of everyone Arthur's sure Merlin will laugh the hardest. And he does, giggling over the speaker at all the right parts, once getting so carried away Arthur has to stop the story for five minutes while he gets himself under control.

The week after that, though, Merlin calls him three days in a row. Arthur decides it's high time they push their schedules aside and have a good old fashioned pub night.

Gwaine gets there first of course, downing a pint and a half before the others even get their first round. Then he goes to try his luck with a blonde at the bar, abandoning the rest.

"Hello, testing one two? Oh good, I was worried I was going to lose my voice from disuse."

Merlin giggles at Arthur's quip. "Don't tell him I knew, but that's my old mate. She's already just a bit engaged."

"Just a bit? How can someone be a bit engaged?"

He blushes and dips his gaze. "She told her boyfriend she wouldn't marry him unless he told his mother to back off her quitting her job and staying home. That was a while ago, but Will's a stubborn momma's boy, so he'll never do it. Hence the qualifier."

Arthur notes Elena’s not wearing a ring.  He wonders if this is a new development or if the “just a bit” had stopped her from wearing it in the first place. "Well Gwaine would never ask that of her, so maybe he's the better bet? "

"That'd be a bad choice on her part. Gwaine's naff in the kitchen."

Merlin takes a swig of his drink, and his words about food make Arthur sweep a glance over his body. He's scrawnier than normal, but then, Merlin's never seemed to gain weight. For a moment Arthur gets the urge to tell him he's not half bad in the kitchen, and he’d be perfectly will to take him home and feed him up, but he quickly tamps on it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They'd known each other for eight months when Arthur first saw Merlin out on a date. It wasn't on purpose or anything, it wasn't like Arthur made a habit of stalking Merlin whenever he heard his friend was seeing someone. In fact, he hadn't even known this date was happening.

Actually, come to think of it, Merlin never really talked about dating at all.

Arthur tried very hard to not consider what he thought about that.

Honestly, it shouldn't have happened at all. It _wouldn't_ have happened if Merlin wasn't such a child. The film Arthur had taken his sister to had been a kids' animation, something about talking toys or animals or some such thing. Morgana always insisted on personally previewing every film before allowing her son Mordred to watch them. Arthur just thought it was an excuse to watch them twice. But since she was in town that weekend for her yearly visit, Arthur had been stuck accompanying her.

The lights had just gone up -and Arthur was being shaken awake -when he spotted them. Merlin and a young man Arthur had never seen before pulling apart from what could only be a classic cinema make-out session.

Arthur felt himself staring as they stood hand in hand to leave, but he couldn't make himself stop. At least not before Merlin looked up and locked eyes with him.

His friend turned six shades of red –from the heat in his neck Arthur was sure he looked the same– and began to drag his companion towards the exit. No longer by the hand, Arthur noticed, but by the sleeve of his jacket.

They didn't escape quickly enough, though. "Arthur, what _are_ you looking at?" Morgana followed his eye line. "Friends of yours?" She asked brightly, far too loudly for Arthur's comfort. Merlin was still looking at them.

"Not exactly." Arthur mumbled, trying to shrink into his seat and disappear. Not only had he trespassed on Merlin's date, but he'd done so at a kids’ film, with his _sister._

He wasn't sure if Merlin heard him or not, but it was a good bet he did from the way he frowned and tugged harder. Arthur hurried to qualify. "I know the one bloke, from the firm, but not the other."

Morgana beamed. "Well come on, be polite. Let's go say hi!"

Then to his mortification she was skipping over to the pair with Arthur in tow. "Hello! I'm Morgana. I'm with this lug-about. He says you work together at the publishing house?" She looked expectantly between the two, not sure of course which one she was talking about. Arthur did his best to will himself invisible.

Merlin's date was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with tanned skin, lush brown hair and a face that would give Gwaine a run for his money in the rugged looks department.

Realizing Merlin wasn't going to say anything at the moment, Mr. Handsome spoke up. "That must be Merlin here. He's an author, you know. Writer of _The Dragonlord._  My name's Lance. I'm just the sad sap who gets to date him."

" _Lance,_ " Merlin squeaked, turning shades Arthur didn't know were possible.  He was refusing to look at Arthur now.  That was fine with him, because he didn’t want to know what Merlin would be able to read in his eyes.

"Come on, Morgana," Arthur managed finally. "Sorry, we'll leave you to your... Sorry for bothering you. I'll see you later, Merlin."

And then Arthur was the one hauling as he forced Morgana out of the cinema. It took him the better part of the trip back to his flat to remember how to breathe right. It wasn't so much the seeing Merlin on a date with a man, but the fact that Merlin hadn't told him, about the date or the _man_.

The next time they see each other they pointedly don't talk about it, and Arthur never explains that to Merlin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few days after pub night Merlin shows up at his door instead of calling. It's a week night, and Arthur would typically be going to bed in an hour, but he finds himself letting Merlin in and popping in a DVD instead without mentioning it.

Merlin is quiet throughout the film, sipping at his beer. Arthur handles the chatter, informing him that Gwaine was over the night after the pub crowing over his victory with Elena, and bragging about the dates they had planned for the week.

“He seemed really excited for a steady girlfriend, which is weird for Gwaine. Guess you were right about her bit of an engagement.  They broke it off a month ago.”

Merlin shrugs.  “I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

“Gwaine says that he loves a working woman, so she’s got nothing to fear from him.  Also, she saw you the other night and was going to come over, but she got caught up talking to Gwaine.  Since when did you move into a new flat?”

Another shrug.  “A while ago.  Needed some space of my own.”

It’s a bit odd that Merlin didn’t tell him, but he lets it go with a frown.  They’ve been distant recently, caught up in their own lives.

When the credits roll Merlin stands to go. Arthur remembers that urge from the other night and hurries to the kitchen.

"Hey, take these with you. Meringue biscuits. Morgana baked them for me, but you look like you could use the fattening up more. I mean, they're just eggs whites so they aren't really that fattening, but there's sugar in them too, so that helps and at least since they're egg _whites_ they're a bit healthier for you, right?" He realizes he's babbling, but he can't quite stop himself.

Merlin takes the tin with a quiet thanks and an odd look on his face that Arthur can't place. He takes a moment to inspect him a bit closer, noting the large bags under Merlin's eyes and how much paler his skin looks under the harsh kitchen lights.

"I'll see you later, alright? Try not to move again with telling me, eh? And get some sleep, you’re looking a bit peaky there." He attempts to lighten what could be mistaken as more than friendly concern with a joke. "Not that you don't normally look like you’ve been dragged behind a truck, but I'm afraid your editors might begin to talk, you know?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Their first fight was over something stupid, as all fights are.

Merlin came into his office hands wringing. It was obvious from the way he paced the small room that he'd spent a lot of time thinking about what he was going to say and then convincing himself to come say it. He tugged at his collar a few times and opened his mouth for a few false starts before Arthur took pity on him.

"Oh for heaven's sake, out with it, Merlin."

He cleared his throat. "I was just wondering... I was thinking... could you possibly..." Arthur rolled his eyes and was about to snap again when Merlin muttered, "I need an advance on my next book."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "An advance? What for?"

Merlin stared at the ground. "It's just, my last check went to my mother, and it's been a while, and Cenred's cut me off at the shop, and -"

"Merlin. Breathe. Just tell me."

"I'm behind on my rent," he huffed out miserably.

"Why didn't you tell me, idiot? You know I'd lend you the money." He would. He'd give him rent for a year if Merlin asked. Merlin should have known this.

Merlin coloured a bit. "I don't want a loan. I just wondered if I could have an advance on my pay for my next book."

"The one you've been working on for nearly a year and a half?" It was a low blow, but a valid point. Merlin had been writing the sequel to his last novel since they met. Since he refused to show it around, Arthur didn't know how much was done, but when asked, Merlin just said he needed more time for the inspiration to strike.

"I'll finish it. I will," he mumbles to the carpet.

"Merlin, just let me loan you the money. It's not a big deal; you know I'm good for it."

Which was apparently the wrong thing to say. "What, so everyone can know I'm just your little charity case? I can take care of myself, you prat."

"I know you can," Arthur placated, "I didn't mean it like that–”

"You keep saying loan, but we both know you mean give. Because poor Merlin can't manage if he has to pay it back, can he?"

That was true, Arthur wouldn't ever ask for a dime. But not because of any slight towards Merlin. Wasn't that just what friends did?

"You can keep your pity change. I've got an offer to move in with someone anyway. Someone who doesn't feel the need to flash their wallet to solve every problem."

Arthur did his best to ignore the jolt that that person was probably Lance. An offer to move in with him instead probably wasn’t his best bet right now anyway. Later –much, much too later for Arthur’s liking– Merlin apologized for losing his temper and told him about the place he was sharing with his old friend from primary school, _Gwen_.

Neither of them ever brought up the wad of bills that were slipped into Merlin's jacket.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later Merlin's back again. He'd been calling every few days, though usually it's only Arthur who talks during their phone conversations now. Merlin's missed his deadline for the second time now. Arthur'd had to institute one to appease the editors who were hounding him about a copy. They called just yesterday to say they were dropping him. Arthur hasn't had the heart to tell Merlin yet.

So with that in mind Arthur steps back from the doorway to let Merlin in. If possible Merlin looks even more haggard now. He swears he ate the meringue biscuits and to give Morgana his compliments, but Arthur has to wonder if he's eaten anything else _but_ that since they last saw each other.

To appease his own worries, Arthur suggests takeaway, even though it's nearly ten and he has work in the morning. Merlin doesn't say anything against it, so Arthur orders them a double helping of Chinese, making sure he gets all of Merlin's favourites.

Merlin goes and sits on the couch, not flicking it on and searching the channels or picking out a film like he might have a few months ago. He just sits, staring at something only he can see.

Arthur wants to ask what's wrong, but he's worried Merlin will get angry and bolt, claiming Arthur's trying to solve all his problems again. Which he is, because he doesn't like to see Merlin like this, doesn't like that his friend can be sat right next to him but still so far away.

He’s not quite sure what he can do to solve the problems, though, since he doesn’t know what they are. That hurts even worse. But Merlin’s here, and even if Arthur’s not sure what to say to make it better, he can only hope his presence is enough.

So instead Arthur puts in a film of his own choice, one he knows Merlin likes, and when the food is cold but mostly untouched and the main title sequence is repeating on the screen, Arthur suggests that Merlin stay the night in the spare room, because he's slightly afraid to let him out of his sight.

 

ooOOoo

 

Merlin's still there when Arthur gets home from work, but he already expected it because he called Merlin twice that day to check in on him.

He's still not speaking much except when Arthur asks a direct question, but a bit more of the Chinese is missing from the refrigerator and he finishes one if the cheese toasties Arthur manages not to burn out of nerves. After they eat he goes and sits in the couch and looks at Arthur not with expectation but with something else Arthur can't quite identify. They go through their film routine, but this time he doesn't even try to fill in the silence.

Merlin goes to sleep in the guest room again, and Arthur doesn't sleep at all.

The next day passes, and Merlin doesn't leave. Arthur is texting him almost constantly. Part of him wants to go home, he knows he's near useless right now, but he doesn't. He needs normal, and even if this isn't normal he'll take what he can.

He texts Merlin that Morgana's coming into town tomorrow and why don't they go out to the pub. Merlin doesn't reply for the longest time, Arthur finds himself holding his breath.

It's only when the " _maybe_ " pops up on the tiny screen of his phone and he heaves it out again that it hits him like a ton of bricks.

He was afraid Merlin wouldn't answer.

He was afraid what not answering could mean.

Arthur leaps out of his chair and grabs his coat, barely bothering to stop and tell his secretary he's leaving for the day. He fidgets on the tube, growling at other passengers who get in his way to get on and off the carriage. He runs from the underground to the flat and doesn't stop until he reaches the door.

"Merlin?" he shouts as soon as he's inside. There's no answer and he feels his panic growing. "Merlin?"

"In here," comes the reply finally. Arthur dashes to the spare room. Merlin is cuddled under the blankets, lifting his head briefly to mutter, "I was trying to sleep, you prat. Not been easy with you jabbering all day."

Arthur barely acknowledges he's apologizing he's so glad to hear that voice. Merlin's fine. He was overreacting. Nothing happened.  Nothing was going to happen.

He takes Merlin out to celebrate nothing and provide an excuse for his early return. It's really a waste of food from the amount left on Merlin's plate, but his friend talks more than he has in days, so Arthur counts it as a win. He can see that Merlin is steadily wilting, though, so they get dessert to go.

Instead of a film Arthur announces that he's going to turn in early. The late nights have clearly taken their toll on him. He invites Merlin to make himself at home. Not that he hasn't already. It's clear he hasn't once stepped out of the flat from the fact that he's been wearing Arthur's clothes.

"Really, you can do whatever. Watch telly, bake a pie, take a shower. Won't bother me any."

Merlin smiles, and it's a real smile that fills Arthur with more happiness than he can contain, and he can’t help but grin back. "Thank you, Arthur. Thank you for everything." He pauses, but the smile stays, so Arthur is perfectly content to just stand there and look at him. "Do you mind if I'm not there tomorrow with you and Morgana?"

He pouts, a little pinprick in his bubble. "Are you sure? Morgana's been asking after you. She'd like to spend time with you after ages of hearing me talk about you."

For a moment he worries that he's gone too far, that he revealed too much, but Merlin's grin grows brighter, and he can't bring himself to care. "I'm sure."

"That's fine, I was thinking about skipping it too."  Arthur's not sure he can make himself leave Merlin alone that long.  Not since he's figured out this fear he feels.

"No, please, go.  Have fun.  I'll be fine."  He heads towards the guest bathroom –Arthur's glad; showers are a good, productive activity– and stops to look back at him before closing the door. "I'm serious, Arthur. Thank you."

 

ooOOoo

 

It's only ten minutes later when he still doesn't hear water running that Arthur starts to worry.

_He could be shaving first. He **was** getting a bit stubbly. Or perhaps he can't find the soap and is too polite to ask knowing I'm sleeping._

Yet Merlin's been over here so many times and stolen so much soap that he knows that's not the case. And he doesn't keep spare razors in the guest bathroom.

With a grunt Arthur levers himself out of bed. He'll just ask. No point lying here driving himself mad with maybes. He pads into the guest bedroom and knocks on the door.

"Merlin? Everything all right in there?" There's no response, and he doesn't hear movement. "Merlin? What, did you manage to drown yourself without even turning on the water?" The tease falls flat, and he can feel his heartbeat grow quicker and heavier. "Merlin, I mean it. Say something right now or I'm coming in there." And heaven help him if he's naked.

After a silent count to three, Arthur opens the door. And promptly fights the urge to vomit. Merlin is there, slumped on the floor, blood not trickling but gushing from gashes on his wrist. Arthur's Swiss army knife lies fallen next to him, and Arthur knows he'll never be able to use it again.

With stuttered motions he lurches to the shelf and grabs a towel. He wraps it around Merlin's wrist and squeezes, trying not just to staunch the flow but to somehow cleave Merlin to him, make it impossible for him to leave. His eyes search desperately, and he nearly sobs when he sees the faint rise and fall of Merlin's chest. He sobs anyway, is wailing and nearly unintelligible when he uses Merlin's discarded phone to call 999.

"Please, Merlin. Please. Don't do this. You can't leave me like this!"

But Merlin has never listened to Arthur before, and he's not listening now.


	2. Chapter 2

It was one year, two months, and fourteen days before Arthur realized he was in love with Merlin. Sure, he’d noticed the odd flipping of his guts whenever Merlin looked at him with that dopey smile, the burning under his skin when he’d seen Merlin on a date with someone else, the way he wished he was with him again minutes after they separated.

                 

Okay, maybe he’d noticed a long time ago, but it wasn’t like he could ever admit it. Merlin would laugh, and Arthur would be crushed, and he just wouldn’t be able to handle Merlin never smiling at him the same.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur sat in the waiting room with his head in his hands. They’d let him come in the ambulance.   He'd been too distraught to drive and too hysterical to allow them to leave him behind. But they weren't letting him in, either. He was left to wait, alone and broken.

 

His brain was swirling with a myriad thoughts, but if pressed he couldn't've said what any of them were. The only thing that was clear was _Merlin_ , but even anything associated with him turned into a cloudy void if probed too closely.

 

They weren't telling him anything. Arthur wasn't family. Merlin didn't really _have_ family, though. His father had been killed during a home invasion gone wrong -but when were those ever right?- and he was close to his mother but only in spirit. The reality was she was days away, living in France, far too far when Merlin could only have hours, minutes, seconds, _God_...

 

They’d offered him a sedative when he first arrived, as he bellowed and threatened to sue the lot of them if they tried to take him from Merlin’s side. He didn’t take it –medicine was for the weak.

 

He should have taken it.

 

He couldn't do this. Not by himself. Arthur brought up Merlin's mobile, still clutched bloody in his hand, and thumbed through the contacts. He should call someone. The hospital would have already called Hunith, but he should speak to her himself, shouldn't he? And tell her what, how he failed her son, let him take his own life under his watch?

 

Lance would probably want to know. Were they still together? He wasn't in Merlin's contacts, but then neither was Gwaine nor Leon. Arthur was there, Hunith, a bloke called Will. No one else. No Gwen, no Elena. Not even his editors.

 

But none of those people would be any help even if Arthur could get a hold of them. Maybe they'd be good for Merlin, but Merlin wasn't available right now. So selfish as it was, right now Arthur needed someone for himself.

 

Normally that would be Merlin.

 

He'd have to settle for the next best thing. Luckily he knew his sister's number by heart. He wasn’t sure he could put Merlin’s mobile down. It was like it was tethering them together, the only bit of Merlin he had right now.

 

"Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but I don’t really care if you're announcing the Second Coming. It’s eleven o’clock at night. I'm going back to sleep, and you can Rapture me in the morning."

 

Arthur opened his mouth, but he couldn't get anything to come out.

 

"Is this some kind of prank call? Let me tell you, you picked the wrong person to challenge. I'll report this number straight to the authorities, just see if I won't."

 

Arthur released a shaky breath. Took in another one. Tried to speak again.

 

"Hello?" Morgana's voice was gentler now. "Are you all right? Can you talk to me or are you in a situation where it's not safe? If that's the case, please just tap a button, and I'll call the police to track you down."

 

Her concern nearly broke him, and he let out a pitiful whine.

 

"Okay, it's okay, you're safe now. Stay on the line; I'm going to get you help. I'm right here, it's all right."

 

He finally found his voice, though he hardly recognized it as his own. "Gana?"

 

"Arthur? Arthur, is that you? What's wrong? It’s okay, sweetie, I’m here."

 

"Gana... I need you."

 

He need say no more. Morgana promised she would be there within the hour -she lived nearly two hours away, but he didn't doubt her- and offered again to stay on the line with him until she arrived.

 

Arthur declined. He didn't need her words. He needed her presence.

 

While he was waiting, he thumbed through Merlin's mobile for clues. There had to be some. There had to be. Nobody just up and… did _that_ without some kind of warning.

 

 

 

 **Sent calls** : Only the recent ones to Arthur. Then one to his mum the morning before he practically moved into Arthur’s apartment.

 

 **Missed calls:** Dozens, some from his mum, a bunch from a variety of uncatalogued numbers, and more than Arthur made in an entire month from Will.

 

 **Received calls:** None.

 

 

 

There were the texts between them from the office. The only ones it seemed Merlin actually responded to. Arthur wondered if he’d even read the others.

 

 

 

**From: Will**

22/8

_over with el screwed up need u lets get pissed_

22/8

_damn el dont need her neway_

28/8

_fine dont need u either wanker_

28/9

_m ur mum just called me pick up now_

 

28/9

_she sounded worried u need to call her back_

29/9

_answer or im coming over there_

 

29/9

_y arent u @ gwens u nvr said u moved_

29/9

_this isnt funny m where r u_

30/9

_answer ur damn phone m im not kiddin_

 

**From: 07700 900128**

22/8

_M dear I need 2 talk 2 u. broke it off w/Will. know u love him but I cant do it nemore. call me back? not askin u 2 pick sides just need 2 talk 2 some1 :(((_

 

24/8

_is it Will? i dont blame u 4 pickin him. i would pick him 2 if he werent so stubborn_

20/9

_saw u other night. meant 2 say hi but u left. can we get 2gether soon?_

28/9

_M dear plz call me back or Will. worried bout u. :(_

 

**From: 07700 900683**

18/7

_Merlin im so so sorry please come home please forgive me_

21/8

_Was the idea of dinner too uncomfortable? I didnt mean to push you so soon. I understand why you moved out but please we can work this out right I dont want to lose you_

30/8

_I cant do it. I cant stay with him knowing youre hurting. I never should have tried. cant we stay friends please? please call me back sweetie! I miss you xx_

 

 

**From: 07700 900319**

18/7

_I'm so sorry, Merlin. This is my fault. I initiated it. Don't blame Gwen, please. We never wanted to hurt you. –Lance_

 

20/8

_Do you want me to stay away tonight? Gwen really wants to see you. I'll leave if it makes you uncomfortable to see us together. -Lance_

21/8

_Merlin, please don't do this. Gwen misses you. I understand if you never want to speak to me again, but can you please talk to her at least? –Lance_

 

 

 

 

Arthur was a blind fool. It was obvious Merlin's world had been falling in from all sides for a long time now, and Arthur hadn't done a damn thing to stop it.He buried his head again. He was a crap friend. He didn’t even deserve Merlin. How had he not noticed? How?

 

He’d never met Will or Elena. Never been invited over to Gwen’s. Never even heard the suggestion that Arthur double-date with him and Lance.

 

He dialled Will. It felt like the right thing to do. His was the only other number in the phone besides Arthur’s and Hunith’s Merlin had kept. Yet Merlin didn’t seem to be talking to him any more than the rest if the increasingly frantic messages were anything to go by.

 

” _Merlin!_ Mate, _where have you been_? Scratch that, where are you _now_? I swear on my father’s grave if you don’t give me a location this instant I will call the police and have you hunted down. I’ll tell them to use deadly force, too. Actually, I won’t, because _I’m_ the one who’s going to shoot you for doing this to me.”

 

“New Memorial.”

 

A long pause. Then irately, “Wai- what? You’re not Merlin. Where’s Merlin? How did you get his phone? Put him on right now.”

 

“I can’t. Merlin is at New Memorial Hospital. In the A&E.”

 

There was the sound of something thudding, fabric rustling, keys jangling. “What happened? I’m on my way. What’s wrong with him? Who are you?”

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He honestly didn’t, not really. He tried to make the next answer come out, but he couldn’t. If he didn’t say it, it didn’t really happen. “It’s bad,” was all he could manage. “Really bad. He needs you.”

 

“I’m coming. I’m practically there already. Tell him I’m coming. And tell the doctors, I’m his proxy. They can’t do anything without my say-so, and I don’t care what his chart says, he does _not_ have a DNAR. He’s allergic to tomatoes and penicillin. He takes citalopram, 40mg every day. And if that wanker thinks he’s gonna disappear on me again, I’ll kill him myself, you got that? Tell him that from me.”

 

Dead air followed, and Arthur knew Will had hung up. He checked the clock on the wall. An hour. Somehow it had only been an hour since the bottom dropped out of his world. Not enough time for Morgana to arrive and not enough time for Arthur to have any more control of his mind or actions than before. Before he’d been filled with righteous anger at the hospital that held Merlin’s life in their hands. Now he just felt numb.

 

He should tell the nurses about Will’s information on Merlin. Information Arthur had had no idea about. He knew about the allergies, but not the medication. He didn’t even know what Merlin was on medication for. He didn’t know about the DNAR, or the proxy.

 

He’d thought he knew everything about Merlin. Now Arthur wondered if he really knew him at all.

 

“Arthur!”

 

Morgana came flying towards him, enveloping him in a hug even while he still sat. “What happened, sweetie? Who is it? What’s wrong?”

 

Arthur blinked dazedly at her as she pulled back to give him a searching look over. “How did you…?” An hour, just as she said.

 

She brushed the half-question aside. “Alvarr brought me. _What happened_ , Arthur?”

 

Arthur slumped even further. For Morgana to be willing to contact her ex for him showed just how terrified he’d made her with his phone call. He ought to feel guilty about it, but he couldn’t. Instead he just pulled her closer again and hugged her tight. He needed his big sister, and he didn’t care who knew it.

 

“ _Merlin!_ ” A stocky man with dishevelled brown hair burst through the doors. He wore red and white checked pyjama bottoms and the laces of his trainers were untied. His face was an utter panic. “Merlin Emrys,” he demanded of the nearest nurse. “Where is he? I’m his medical proxy, you have to let me see him, _where is he?_ ”

 

“Mr. William Vaughan? The doctor has instructed me to take you back to his office when you arrived. He needs to speak with you.”

 

Arthur’s heart dropped. _No…_

 

Morgana looked up in horror at the discovery of the source of the problem. She grasped Arthur’s hand and turned to face Will. “May we come as well? Merlin is our friend.”

 

Will studied them for a moment, confused, but his eyes hit on Arthur, who still stared at the ground in a state of shock. “Were you the one who called me?”

 

“Yes, he was. Arthur was with him.” He didn’t know how she knew that. Didn’t care. So long as it got him through those doors.

 

“Come on then.”

 

Arthur let himself be led through the hallways. He kept glancing into rooms and behind curtains as much as he could, praying he’d find a healthy and _alive_ Merlin behind one of them. He had no such luck. The nurse took them to a small office and left them to wait.

 

Will turned on him immediately. “What happened to Merlin?”

 

Arthur shuddered.   Morgana squeezed him tight, as if by sheer force she could hold him together. “It’s okay, pup. You can do this. Just start from the beginning.”

 

Arthur didn’t know where the beginning was. And that was what filled him with the most shame. If he had… Better to start from the end. That was all he was clear on right now. “He… in the bathroom… it was too quiet… there was _so_ _much_ _blood_ …”

 

He was sure it didn’t make any sense, but somehow Will knew exactly what he was getting at. He dropped to a chair.

 

“Oh, pup,” Morgana breathed the childhood epitaph into his ear, her own voice stolen by grief. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“He was supposed to be better,” Will muttered, almost to himself. “He _promised_ things were better.”

 

“I didn’t… something happened. I think his boyfriend cheated on him. And he was caught in between you and Elena. And he lost his home because I think it was Gwen Lance cheated with. And he lost his editors because he was behind on his book. And the publishing house wanted me to drop him, too, but I couldn’t tell him that. And he couldn’t afford a flat by himself. And he told me once he wanted his mum to be proud of him. And–”

 

“Arthur.” Morgana took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake that was just this side of harsh. “If you try to unravel a cause like this, you’ll just end up driving yourself mad, because you’re not going to find one.”

 

“I should have known it was happening. I’m his...” but he wasn’t, no matter what he might have wished. And now the chance was gone. “I should have _known_.”

 

“You can _not_ blame yourself. This is _not_ your fault.”

 

“But I _saw_ him, Gana,” he protested. “He was right there in front of me, and I _knew_ something was wrong, and I did _nothing._ ”

 

“Did Merlin ever tell you something was wrong? Did he ask for your help or advice? Did he say, ‘Arthur, I’m depressed, and I’m thinking about killing myself?’” The blunt words cut into him. “Sweetie, you told me yourself over the phone: Merlin hardly left your side for the last few days. I think yes, he was trying to get silent support even if he couldn’t come right out and ask for it. But if he really meant to do this, he was going to do it. If you’d known that was why he was there, that this was going to happen, sure, maybe you could have done something. But that’s all past now. There is no point in blaming yourself for what’s done. You know _now_ , Arthur. Help him _now._ ”

 

“I knew,” Will admitted. Arthur whipped his head up sharply to stare at the young man. “Maybe not really, not this time, but before… When we were younger, after his dad… he had problems. Stopped eating, stopped applying to universities. Said he just didn’t feel like it mattered anymore. Hunith had to do it for him, but he wasn’t participating even at his current level of school. Just didn’t care.”

 

Will’s eyes had a glazed look, either from tears or ghosts of the past. “I asked him once… if he’d thought about… He said no. He said that would be ending the pain. He didn’t need to do that because there _was_ no pain. His entire life was falling apart, but he just felt… nothing. He only wanted to feel something again.”

 

A knock on the door interrupted any thoughts Arthur’s scrambled brain might have come up with on that. The doctor stepped in, chart in hand and a sombre expression on his face. A young woman in casual business wear followed.

 

“Hello. I’m Dr Gilli. This is Dr Gedref, who works closely in conjunction with our hospital.”

 

The woman smiled warmly. “You can call me Mithian.”

 

“Is this is the family of Merlin Emrys?”

 

“I’m his best friend and medical proxy. Where is he? I want to see him.” Arthur could understand Will’s desires even as at the same time he couldn’t. He _craved_ the sight of Merlin, but he wasn’t sure he could handle yet what he saw.

 

“We can take you to him in a moment. But first there are a few things we need to discuss.”

 

“Is he alright at least?” Morgana demanded. “No one’s said. The least you could do is prepare us.”

 

“That is what I am attempting to do now, Ms…?”

 

“Le Fay. Morgana.”

 

“Physically, I can assure you that Mr Emrys is going to be fine. We’ve stitched the deepest of his wounds and given him a transfusion. He’s still slightly weak from blood loss, but he’s going to make it.”

 

Arthur sagged. Merlin was _alive_. He didn’t care what else the doctor had to say, that was all he needed to hear.

 

“However, mentally there some deep concerns. I understand he’s been on anti-depressants?”

 

Will nodded. “For about six years now. He said they helped. He was feeling better.”

 

“I’m afraid that is the nature of depression. One day the patient may be feeling fine, the next they don’t, often times with no little to no warning. Was he ever in any type of cognitive therapy?”

 

“No, he refused. Said he wasn’t letting his mum waste the money so that he could go talk about his feelings.” Will gave a tiny snort. “Merlin told me if he got that desperate, he’d go buy a diary.”

 

Mithian stepped forward now. “I’d like to take Merlin on as a patient at my clinic. It’s a full-time residential facility, especially for those who struggle with depressive disorders.”

 

“But, but what about us? Wouldn’t Merlin be better off with people who care about him? That’s what loved ones are there for, after all, to lean on.” Arthur wasn’t about to make that mistake again. He was _never_ going to abandon Merlin ever again.

 

“You’re free to visit, of course, as often as you would like. But the point of the therapy that we provide is to give Merlin the building blocks to fight this himself. The power of love may work in the fairy tales, but say he does lean on your care for him. What happens to him if you were suddenly taken away from him? What would he do then? Your support is important, critical even, but we have to make sure that when push comes to shove, Merlin can stand on his own.”

 

Arthur wanted to protest again. He’d failed Merlin once already by not seeing that he was struggling. How could he help him if he wasn’t there beside him?

 

 _“Merlin hardly left your side for days.”_ He sighed in defeat. Morgana was right. Mithian was right. Arthur had tried the simple method of providing his presence. He’d been right there for Merlin to talk to if he wanted. Hell, he’d been barely two metres away as Merlin slashed open his own arms…

 

“What if he won’t go? Will just said, he turned it down last time.”

 

Mithian turned to the young man in question. “That’s why we needed to speak to you. If Merlin refuses to go, we need you to sign the papers allowing us to take him in anyway.”

 

“You want to have him _committed_?” Will yelled in outrage.

 

“Currently I’m afraid he is a danger to himself. Particularly with his history, we can’t assume this is going to be an isolated incident. His apparent poor dietary habits indicate that he has and may continue to mistreat himself even if he never makes another attempt on his life. I promise, he’ll be well taken of. I will oversee his therapy personally. And as I said, you can come and see him whenever you wish.”

 

Committed. She could sugar-coat it as much as she liked, but that was what it was coming down to. They could send him away to be locked up or… or they could let him come home and watch him destroy himself.

 

It wasn’t really a choice when it was put like that.

 

“Can we ask him first at least? Before we just toss him to the sharks?” Will snapped.

 

“Of course. Take all the time you need. Treatment will go smoother for him if this is something he wants for himself, not something he feels forced to do. But just… go easy on him. Depression is an illness. He doesn’t want to feel this way. He doesn’t want to hurt you. None of this is his fault, nor is it yours. Fault has nothing to do with it.”

 

Arthur wanted to believe that, but he couldn’t stop seeing every opportunity he’d ever had to ask what was wrong. To press for answers.

 

“And you should be warned that this is something he may continue to struggle with for years to come. This isn’t the flu. There is no clear cut treatment that heals everything in a week.”

 

“So you’re saying you can’t help him?”

 

“I’m saying I’m going to try. I’m sure Merlin is going to try too. But this is an uphill battle through rocky terrain, sometimes up sheer cliffs. And sometimes, despite all our best intentions, everyone falls down now and again. It’s our job to help him want to get back up.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You go in first.”

 

Morgana shook her head and tugged on his hand. “Come on, pup. He needs you in there. And I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

 

“ _Morgana…_ ”

 

“ _Arthur._ ”

 

He glared at her with little heat. She was right; he had to do this, for Merlin. Soft voices floated into the hallway. Will had already gone in. They were getting louder. Will was on the verge of shouting. If someone didn’t interfere, they would dissolve into an all-out fight, and Arthur knew just how well Merlin held his own with those. They were supposed to be convincing him, not yelling at him.

 

_“No matter what, he needs to know you’re on his side. This can’t be an ultimatum. If he feels he will lose your friendship for not getting better, he’ll lose motivation **to** get better. No one wants to risk being alive but alone. Let him know you care. Don’t corner him._ ”

 

Clearly Will was going with his own therapeutic methods. Arthur steeled himself and walked into the room. Merlin lay propped up on the bed, various tubes and wires leading off of him. He kept his right arm tucked under the blankets out of sight. The other hand picked at lint while he avoided Will’s accusing scowl. When Arthur entered, Merlin’s gaze popped up to meet his. A mix of shame and anger flooded his eyes. Arthur understood. Merlin should be angry with him.

 

Yet “Why’d you call _him_?” was what he demanded.

 

Arthur stumbled back a bit, only spurred on by Morgana’s shoving him forward. “I… I thought…”

 

“He called me because he was worried about you, and I’m your friend, you moron, though God knows why,” Will snapped. “Which is why I’ll ask again: why’d you lie to me and say things were fine?”

 

Merlin found a hole in the blanket and fiddled with it, poking a finger through, pinching the edges together. “They were. I was handling it.”

 

“Handling it. Right. That’s why El says you stopped talking to her, not even bothering to say hi when you saw her. That’s why Gwen says you moved out, but she wouldn’t say why or where you moved to. That’s why your mother called me in tears because you said you didn’t want her to come visit. That’s why you _never bloody answered your damn phone_ no matter how many times I tried to get a hold of you. Is that how you were ‘ _handling_ ’ things, Merlin? They told you not to cut people off. That isolation wasn’t the answer.”

 

“I wasn’t alone,” he murmured back, eyes flicking up to Arthur. Arthur stepped a bit closer to the edge of the bed. Reaching out without even thinking, he grabbed the fidgeting hand, rubbing a thumb over the back to still it. Tears filled Merlin’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

He squeezed the hand. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

Will glanced between them and looked like he was going to start in again, this time on Arthur, but Arthur just shot him a glare and dared him to open his mouth. Fine, Merlin wasn’t his, no matter how much Arthur had dreamed about it. But if he could make Merlin smile even that little watery one he granted now, Arthur would break his own heart to pieces to make it happen. Morgana seemed to sense the tension and stepped forward.

 

“Hello, Merlin, remember me?”

 

The tiny smile faded a little, and Merlin’s hand shifted like he was going to pull it away. Arthur held on tighter. “Hello, Morgana,” he sighed.

 

“I hope you don’t mind I’m here. My brother called me and asked if I could come a little early. I told him absolutely not, but then he said it was for you, so of course I came.”

 

Merlin flushed a bit, confusion passing through his features for a moment. Then the corners of his mouth upturned again. “Thanks. I’m glad he has someone like you around to take care of him.”

 

“Did I not make myself clear? I’m not here for him. We’re here for _you_ , my dear.”

 

Will seemed to have finally calmed himself down again. “They want you to go into therapy, Mer. Real therapy this time, not just the meds.”

 

His face felt flat. “I told you, I’m not throwing away money on that load of bollocks.”

 

“It’s not throwing it away. Besides, we’re going to help you.”

 

Merlin shook his head and again tried a bit more earnestly to pull his hand away. “No. I can’t let you do that. Please don’t waste your money on me. I’m not worth all that.”

 

“You _are_ , sweetie,” Morgana insisted. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I know my brother, and he talks about you all the time. You make him happy, and that makes me happy. It’s time to pay it back so that you can be happy, too.”

 

“But–”

 

“You _deserve_ this, Merlin.” _I just don’t deserve you._ “You deserve the chance to get better. If you truly believe we’re better off without you… I’m sorry, I just can’t agree with that. Nothing is better without you.”

 

Merlin still didn’t look like he believed them, but he was clearly crumbling. And this time Arthur was going to make sure his friend knew there was someone there willing to catch him. “Nothing is better without you, so we’re going to do everything we can to make sure you stick around. We’re not leaving, no matter what. Whether you like it or not.”

 

His voice broke on the last bit, and Merlin’s defences finally broke down. He reached out both arms and wrapped them tightly around Arthur and dragging him down. It wasn’t so much a hug as two people clinging to each other, Arthur trying to pin Merlin to this world and Merlin trying to anchor himself to stop from falling anymore.

 

“I just want to go home,” he whispered shakily.

 

Arthur had heard what Mithian said about Merlin being able to stand on his own two feet and not depend on him for his happiness. He had heard it, and he understood it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. All Arthur wanted was to take care of him, to block out the world for him, to be enough.

 

But Merlin needed to be enough for himself, and Arthur couldn’t help him accomplish that alone.

 

“Merlin… the therapy you need… they want you to go stay somewhere else for a while while you do it.” His friend pulled away, betrayal stinging in his eyes. Arthur hurried to clarify. “I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere, none of us are. It’s only for a while, and we’ll be there for you every step of the way. Please, Merlin. All I want is for you to be okay.”

 

Merlin didn’t say anything. He looked between the three people standing in his room, gaze resting longest on Will and Arthur. Will still looked upset, but none of his anger seemed directed at Merlin anymore. Instead he gave his best encouraging nod.

 

Then Merlin shuttered off again. The look scared Arthur. It was too similar to the one he’d worn the past few weeks. “It’s okay. You don’t have to come. I understand.”

 

“Merlin, it’s not like that…”

 

But he could see what Merlin was thinking. His friends were getting rid of him, passing off the problem because they couldn’t bring themselves to care enough to keep him around.

 

“What if I say no?”

 

Arthur glanced at Will. He was the one with the power here, even if they were giving Merlin the opportunity to choose for himself to say yes to the in-house therapy, in the end Will was the one who would decide what would happen if he said no.

 

Will, who seemed to be breaking further and further apart, his hands balled and trembling. Silently Arthur willed Merlin to agree, to spare his friend this decision. He had no idea what he would do in that position. Will’s answer gave little indication what his choice might be. “Then we will still do whatever we have to to help you.”

 

Merlin didn’t break his eyes from Arthur. “Do you want me to go?”

 

_I don’t ever want you to go._ “As I said: I want you to be okay.”

 

The silence was so long Arthur began to wonder if Merlin was going to answer.   _Say yes. Please, Merlin, say yes._

 

“Okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

On a scale of the hardest things Arthur has had to go through in his life, he’s fairly certain this ranks as the second. After a mere night of recovery, Merlin goes straight from the hospital to the clinic. Instructions are left that any personal belongings he might wish to have can be dropped off that night. That is, those personal belongings that aren’t banned from the premises, anything that might be harmful or triggering. Arthur understands some of the restrictions (“No headphones, ties, or razors”) but some of them confuse him (“Food must be preapproved and may only be brought in specified containers”).

 

Merlin doesn’t ask for anything special, and Arthur has no idea what he might want. But more than that it brings up the question that no one knows where Merlin is living. He’d brought nothing to Arthur’s, and apparently left nothing at Gwen’s. After gently prodding Merlin a bit longer, he finally discovers an address. A rundown bedsit on the outskirts of the city.

 

The place is neater than Arthur would have expected, what with Merlin being the resident. But it’s not the lack of space that makes it feel like a prison cell. It’s the lack of anything personal, homey, any of the things Arthur remembers Merlin crowing about buying to make his home scream “ _Merlin_.” This flat just whispers “occupant.”

 

So Arthur does what he can. He packs up a few days’ worth of clothing, a picture of Hunith –sans frame, as per instruction– a half dozen of Merlin’s favourite books. Arthur flips open the notebook on the desk labelled “Sequel”, curiosity getting the better of him. Merlin always wrote his first drafts in a notebook, no matter how many times Arthur accused him of being a classicist (“ _You should just be glad I don’t use a typewriter, too”)_. Altogether six pages are written on, but the sum total of useable prose is only about a page and a half. The rest is just scribbles and harsh crossed-out lines. Arthur picks out a spare, empty notebook from a drawer instead.

 

The little suitcase is still painfully empty. There should be more, Arthur’s sure there should be more. But he doesn’t know anymore what has meaning to Merlin. Would he want the dragon carving his father made him, or would the reminder of his death simply depress him? Was a copy of his own novel a mark of success or failure? Did he want to forget anything to do with his past, or would the lack of mementos only serve to make the future seem even more pointless?

 

In the end Arthur throws the carving in and leaves the book. Before he can even see Merlin to give it to him, though, he has to wait until visiting hours, and then wait some more until the nurses check through to ensure everything passes their strict screening.

 

Merlin looks surprised and almost upset when Arthur walks into the room. He’s sitting and staring out a window, ignoring Will, who’s already there and doing his best to draw him into conversation, this time at normal speaking levels. From the stiff set of both their shoulders they’ve already had one discussion before he arrived. Arthur wonders if it was about him from the glare Will throws at him, but so many things could have happened that he knows it’s selfish to assume it.

 

He can’t afford to be selfish right now.

 

Merlin won’t respond to his prodding either, even when Arthur tries to show him the things he’s brought. He refuses to touch the books or notebook, but he does at least take the little dragon carving and set it on his windowsill with the photo of his mum. At the end of the visit when the nurses are kicking him and Will out, Merlin hasn’t said more than a few words, and Arthur starts to wonder if they’ve done the right thing.

 

He pretends not to see the sheen in Will’s eyes as they get in their respective cars and knows that the other man is wondering the same thing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

For all that Mithian promised visitors would be allowed, Arthur knows he isn’t there nearly as often as Merlin needs him to be. He’s only permitted to be in the clinic for a few hours each night out of respect for other patients and the strict counselling schedule Merlin’s on, and the restriction chafes. Will comes too, but less and less, and it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, still hurt and angry. He never talks to Arthur when they both visit at the same time.

 

They are the only ones Merlin will allow to come see him. When the suggestion of Gwaine or Leon visiting is brought up, it spurs the most he’s ever said as he begs Arthur not to mention anything. “Tell them I’m on vacation if they ask.” There’s a tone in his voice making it clear he knows they won’t.

 

Sometimes Arthur wonders if Merlin actually wants him to stay away, too.

 

Merlin still hasn’t said anything about that night, at least not to Arthur. He’s not sure if he’s glad or not, if he wants Merlin to have talked through it with his therapists and calmed down before he screams at Arthur or if he wants the worst case scenario. But then, he’s pretty sure he just saw the worst case scenario. Whatever Merlin has to say to him can’t possibly be any worse than what Arthur’s screamed at himself.

 

It’s Will who caves and calls Gwen. She shows up on a Saturday afternoon, flowers in hand. Arthur’s never met her, but he’s seen Elena and so far as he knows –which he now has to admit is nothing– Merlin doesn’t have any other female friends, not close ones, anyway. When she pokes her head into the room, Merlin sits up, and they stare at each other for a long moment until Arthur hesitantly clears his throat to break the silence if not the tension.

 

“Will… uh… he told me you were here? I… I’ve been wanting to see you…” She’s soft-spoken, nervous, nowhere near the she-demon Arthur had spent the last few days imagining her to be.

 

Nor does Merlin look as angry to see her as Arthur would have thought. “Hi, Gwen,” he murmurs back.

 

Gwen takes that as a sign of jubilant welcome and throws herself on the man, who does nothing to stop her, settling into the hug in a resigned, but almost content way. “I’ve missed you so much. When I heard that you… Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t– You mean everything to me!”

 

Merlin is silent, but this time the silence isn’t from shame or anger. There is pure acceptance on his face, and he holds Gwen all the tighter. Despite the happiness that fills Arthur at the reconciliation, it also galls him. How can Merlin forgive her so quickly? How can he let it go so easily, after all that her betrayal led to?

 

Gwen starts talking animatedly about Merlin moving back in once he’s released, how she’s going to cook him his favourite dish and she’ll take a few days off work so they can go to the lake. She says nothing about Lance or where he is now, though from the text messages Arthur had gathered he was no longer in the picture. Merlin for his part is smiling and nodding in a way Arthur hasn’t seen in a long time.

 

At the end she kisses Merlin on the cheek and promises to come back in a few days, extracting a similar promise for Merlin to call her whenever he wants. Merlin sighs happily, and as Arthur takes his own leave he can’t help the glop of hurt that adds itself to a growing pile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Despite the narrow visiting hours, Arthur’s taken a leave of absence from work. He can’t focus in the office, which doesn’t really matter since he can’t focus at home either. Both places fill him with a nervous energy that leaves him pacing.

 

Morgana’s staying with him. After a hushed phone call Arthur probably wasn’t supposed to hear, she’d sent Mordred to Alvarr and moved into the flat. She swears it’s only temporary, but so far no amount of persuading could get her to leave again, and Arthur was finding he didn’t really want her to.

 

It’s Morgana who cooks him dinner and Morgana who answers his phone calls from work and Morgana who forces him to shower and eat and sleep like a human. Arthur’s sure her frustration with him is growing from the dimming smiles as she cajoles him to read this article and watch this movie and take this walk.

 

“Perhaps it’s time to go back to work? Something to occupy your mind?”

 

“Maybe you should skip today’s visit. It might be good to have a night off. You could get together with Leon and Gwaine.”

 

“Arthur, sweetie, you have to stop this. Just because Merlin decided to stop living doesn’t mean you should, too.”

 

But Morgana can’t know about the gnawing guilt that’s eating away inside him. It’s not his fault. It’s not. He’s done enough reading and heard enough lectures to know it’s not his fault, that he did nothing to cause this. But he did nothing to stop it, either. He never acknowledged that Merlin was acting different than normal. He never asked what was wrong. He never told Merlin he was there for him.

 

Merlin wanted him to be there. Arthur realizes that now. The phone calls, the visits, the staying over. Merlin wanted help, and Arthur never gave it to him. Despite noticing the weight loss, the apathy, the silence. He treated him like everything was normal.

 

It won’t happen again. Arthur is going to assure it never happens again. That’s why he can’t go back to work. That’s why he can’t leave for the pub or a movie or a nap. He absolutely can’t skip one night by Merlin’s side. Because then something could happen, and he won’t be there, and Arthur will never not be there again.

 

He knows he can’t love Merlin. Dr Gedref had drilled it into them. Love only cures people in the movies. Merlin couldn’t handle the emotional strain of a relationship. Arthur’s love, while given with good intensions, would only impede his progress.

 

So Morgana stays and continues to take care of him and if either of them notices a similarity between this and events of the recent past, neither of them is willing to admit it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After three weeks Merlin is looking healthier. His face has filled back out and the one accidental peek Arthur gets of his arm shows the scar is healing well. That’s all on the physical side. The nurses and doctors won’t really talk to Arthur about it, but their comments when Arthur’s in hearing encourage him that the therapy is going well. And Arthur’s doing better at keeping his own feelings for Merlin at arm’s length himself. Though there are still far too many awkward silences between the two of them, Merlin’s talking more, and he’s even made a friend, a girl named Freya who is otherwise petrified of anyone else who comes near her.

 

But he’s still not being released. When Arthur asks, Merlin shrugs and says it’s not up to him. He doesn’t push. Despite wanting Merlin to be well enough to leave, he’s not sure yet how to treat him outside this controlled environment.

 

This becomes clear on the Thursday afternoon Merlin is permitted to take a walk of the grounds accompanied only by Arthur, a rare privilege even now.

 

“Morgana would be pleased to see this. She thinks I don’t get enough exercise. She’s always harping on me to get out of the flat more.” Arthur always hesitates when mentioning Morgana. He can’t quite ever read Merlin’s expression when he does, and it bothers him.

 

“You’ll have the time for it tomorrow. That new action film is coming out. I’m applying for a day pass to go see it.”

 

_Without you._ It’s not said but Arthur hears it anyway. “Oh, uh… I thought you didn’t like action movies? Was it… does Will like them, then?”

 

“No,” Merlin answers, oddly stiffly. “He’s not coming. It’s just me.”

 

“Oh,” Arthur says again for lack of a better response. “Are you allowed to do that?”

 

And if he had to pinpoint it later he would say that was where it all went wrong.

 

“Why _wouldn’t_ I be _allowed_?” Merlin’s stopped walking, arms crossed defensively. “I’m not a prisoner here.”

 

Arthur backtracks quickly, “No, of course you aren’t–”

 

“So why do you think I have to have someone watching me all the time? I don’t need a babysitter, Arthur.”

 

“I never meant–”

 

“Then why can’t you people ever give me five minutes alone by myself?”

 

“Because I can’t trust that if I do that you’ll still be alive at the end of them!”

 

Merlin freezes and Arthur freezes and the air around them goes frosty. If Arthur could shove the traitorous words back in his mouth then he would in a second, but a second is too late to fix Merlin having heard them.

 

“You don’t trust me?” he asks quietly.

 

“No, Merlin, of course I do. I’m sorry–”

 

“No, I’m sorry.” For all his words, there is a betrayal in his eyes that shatters Arthur’s heart. “I didn’t mean to do this to you. You’re right, you shouldn’t trust me.” He backs away, shaking his head.

 

“Merlin, I trust you, I swear!”

 

“No, you don’t. But that’s okay. I don’t either.”

 

And then he’s gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _You_ _lost him?_ How could you possibly _lose him_?” Will screams into his ear through the mobile.

 

“Please, Will, just… just help me find him.”

 

After losing Merlin in the streets, Arthur had gone straight back inside, explaining simply that Merlin had run away, though he left out the detail that it was completely his fault. Merlin’s refusing to answer his mobile, but Arthur knows he has it on him. So next he tried Merlin’s provider, demanding they track him through the GPS. Unfortunately, not even the assurances of the nurses could convince them Arthur wasn’t some crazed stalker and they refused to help.. So he gave in and called Will, knowing exactly what the other man would say and knowing he deserved every condemnation.

 

“Oh, I’m going to find him. And then you’re never getting anywhere near him again! He was fine when he was here with me. What have you done for him so far? Nearly gotten him killed and then made him run away from his last chance at getting his life back together! I should have listened to him when he asked to ban you from seeing him, no matter what the doctors said. You know, if you hadn’t been such a pussy about it, he never would have been with Lance to get cheated on in the first place! But no, you have to wait until he _needs_ you to let him know you care. What are you going to do once he’s better, huh? Was that what this was? Shoving him back down so he’ll _always_ _need_ you? He’s not your plaything, Pendragon.”

 

Arthur can’t say anything to that because Will’s right, of course he’s right. And he’s not going to have to do anything to keep Arthur away, because Arthur will do that himself now. Clearly he doesn’t know what’s good for Merlin, let alone what’s best. He can’t just sit by and ruin his best friend’s life anymore.

 

“He’ll go home,” Will’s growling now. “He always goes home when he’s upset.”

 

But where is Merlin’s home now? He lives in the bedsit, but Arthur’s been there, and not even in his deepest delusions would Merlin consider that place home. Would he go back to Gwen’s? Fly to his mother’s? Get a cab to Will’s?

 

Arthur starts driving to Gwaine’s and Leon’s while Will calls Gwen and Elena, but no one has seen him and no one has heard from him. After an hour Arthur has to go back to his flat, because his breakdown is coming hard now, and he can’t see to drive for worry. Just as he’s about to pull onto his street, his mobile rings.

 

It’s Merlin.

 

“Merlin, please, I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean it like that. I swear I didn’t. Just come back, please.”

 

“Um, hello?”

 

It’s not Merlin.

 

“Wh-who is this? Where’s Merlin?”

 

The voice on the other end sounds nervous and upset, but Arthur doesn’t care about anything except the answer to his question. He doesn’t expect the one he gets. “This is Lance. Merlin’s here at my flat. The phone kept ringing, and he was refusing to answer it, so I snuck it away when he went to shower. He won’t tell me what’s going on. I don’t know what you– I don’t understand why he’s here.”

 

Arthur doesn’t have time to contemplate why Merlin would choose his ex-boyfriend’s home to run to, because he heard only one word. “He’s in the shower? You have to get him out of there. He _cannot_ be alone right now, do you hear me? Especially not in the bathroom.” He’s practically screaming down the line in terror.

 

“I didn’t want to leave him, but he insisted he wanted to be left alone. And he’s out now, just getting dressed. What’s going on, Arthur? Did you have a fight?” There’s the sound of a knock, and a muffled, “Merlin? Merlin, can you please come out here and talk to me for a minute?”

 

“He can’t be alone. Please, you have to go in there with him. Where’s your flat? I’m on my way.” _Please, Merlin. Don’t do this._

 

Lance’s flat is actually in the same building as Arthur’s, just a floor below. There’s some kind of symbolism there, he’s sure, but there’s no way he’s stopping to consider it right now. Arthur sprints up the stairs, heart pounding and breathing harsh, his only thoughts an agonizing litany. _Please, Merlin. Please. Please be okay, Merlin. Please._

 

Lance's door is unlocked when he arrives, and Lance himself is standing in front of another door, pleading with the unresponsive wood. "Merlin, please talk to me. What's going on?" He turns when Arthur bursts in. "He won't come out. I unlocked it, but I think he put something in front of the door so I can’t open it. What exactly is happening here? What’s wrong with him?"

 

Arthur's heart drops beyond his toes into the floor. He places hand on the door and rests his forehead against it. Softly, probably too softly, he calls in defeat, "Merlin? Please just say something. Please." _Please, be alive. Please for the love of you please just be alive._

 

There are no answering words, but the scrap of furniture is all the response Arthur needs. When the scraping stops he cautiously opens the door, barely able to get it open wide enough to squeeze through with the side table still partially in the way. He closes it behind him without letting Lance even take a peek inside and locks it again. Merlin is in the bathtub, curled up with his knees stuck in his eyeballs. He refuses to look up at Arthur as he approaches, easing himself into the other end of the tub.

 

"Will's going to have me locked up now isn't he?"

 

The hollow question surprises Arthur. "What makes you think that?"

 

"He told me they gave him a choice. That this was my chance and not to screw it up."

 

Arthur's going to kill Will. "You didn't screw up, Merlin. I did. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

 

"But you meant it. That's why you're here now. You thought I was going to do it again. No one's ever going to trust me again." He gives a harsh laugh. "But you needn't worry. I'm such a loser I can't even kill myself right."

 

Something dies inside Arthur when he hears those words. He doesn't have a clue what the right response to that is, and he's not sure if there even is one. And maybe that's the problem. Arthur's been trying so hard to do the right thing, to say the right thing. Be there for him, don't ask things of him, let him know you love him but don't _really_ love him. And it's that last part Arthur knows now is wrong. How can Merlin know Arthur loves him if he never says?

 

"Merlin... I would have come anyway. I will always come after you, no matter what. I came because you were upset and it was my fault and I would do anything, _anything_ to make you happy again if I could. It's killing me to see you hurting like this, and I know you can't ever forgive me for what I did, but you have to know I will do everything in my power to never abandon you again."

 

Merlin is looking up at him now, and his pain is overshadowed only by his confusion. "Forgive you... Arthur, when have you ever abandoned me?"

 

"You came to me for help and you were asking and asking and I didn't see the signs and I never did anything to help you and it's all my fault and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Merlin!" Arthur is ready to sob, his throat swollen with tears, but he holds it back because this is what he's not supposed to be doing, he's not supposed to make Merlin feel bad, because it's not about Arthur's failings. But Merlin forgave Gwen and seems to have forgiven Lance yet he hasn't said a word to Arthur and that must be because he knows Arthur doesn't deserve it.

 

"Arthur..." he whispers, and here it comes, here was the dismissal from his life that Arthur _did_ deserve. "You saved my life," he whispers. Arthur just shakes his head. He didn't. He really didn't. "If you hadn't called the ambulance when you did, I wouldn't be here now. And if you hadn't let me stay with you, if you hadn't seen that I needed you and turned me away, I might have..." He swallows hard and ducks his head to the ground for a moment, but then he visibly forces himself to look Arthur in the eye. "I had a gun, in my flat. I was going to use it. That night, almost three months ago now. I was calling to say goodbye. Then I heard your voice and I... I couldn't do it. Because you were there and you cared and I- I just couldn't." Now he looks away and stays with his face buried in his knees. "Then I realized that I wasn't doing anything but ruining your life by being in it. You came home from work for me and you had Morgana and I was just in the way."

 

Arthur can't hold back anymore. He closes the distance between himself and Merlin and wraps his arms around him, holding him as close as Merlin's scrawny legs will let him. "Merlin, the only way you could ruin my life is by not being in it. I love you, you idiot. I would quit my job and miss a thousand lunch dates before I would ever let anything come before you."

 

Merlin had lost his own battle with his tears somewhere halfway through Arthur's speech. Arthur is on the precipice himself but there's one more thing he has to say.

 

"I know you can't do a relationship right now. But please know that I'm not going anywhere. Not while you're sick and not if you get sick again and not if you’re sick for the rest of your very long life. I love you, Merlin. No matter what."

 

They sit there for a long time afterwards and cry and breathe each other in. They told Arthur, he couldn’t be Merlin’s lifejacket. He couldn’t keep Merlin afloat come hell or high water. But lately all he had been doing was leaving them both to drown. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a lifejacket they needed. Maybe all either of them had ever needed was a hand. A hand that would never go away, holding on to each other’s hearts and keeping them going when they were just too tired to go on.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was one year, two months, and fourteen days before Arthur realized he was in love with Merlin. It was sixty-three years more before he stopped.

 

It was sixty-eight before Merlin did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my big fat warning that I am absolutely not glorifying depression or suicide. If you ever are feeling down and hopeless, please _please_ contact someone to talk to. If you don't think you have anyone, I am nearly always available by email, found on my profile. Feel free to rant, scream, word vomit, whatever you need. You are loved, and your life is worth it.
> 
> If you want someone professional to talk to and are in the United States and typing is your thing and not phones, please check out [CrisisChat](http://www.crisischat.org/), a private, secure chatroom.
> 
> The following are hotlines you can call in a variety of different countries. Again I encourage you to please call one if you are feeling in a dark place.
> 
> If you notice a number is incorrect or out of date, please let me know in the comments and I will update. 
> 
> Albania: 127  
> Argentina: (54-11) 4758-2554  
> Australia: 13 11 14  
> Austria: 142  
> Barbados: (246) 4299999  
> Belgium: 106  
> Botswana: 3911270  
> Brazil: +55 51 211 2888  
> Canada - Greater Vancouver: 604-872-3311  
> Canada - Toll free-Howe Sound/Sunshine Coast: 18666613311  
> Canada - TTY: 1-866-872-0113  
> Canada - BC-wide: 1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433)  
> China: 0800-810-1117  
> China (Mobile/IP/extension users): 010-8295-1332  
> Croatia: (01) 4833-888  
> Cyprus: +357 77 77 72 67  
> Denmark: +45 70 201 201  
> Estonia (1): 126  
> Estonia (2): 127  
> Estonia (3): 646 6666  
> Fiji (1): 679 670565  
> Fiji (2): 679 674364  
> Finland: 01019-0071  
> France: (+33) (0)9 51 11 61 30  
> Germany (1): 0800 1110 111  
> Germany (2): 0800 1110 222  
> Germany (youth): 0800 1110 333  
> Ghana: 233 244 846 701  
> Greece: (0) 30 210 34 17 164  
> Hungary: (46) 323 888  
> India: 2549 7777  
> Ireland (1): +44 (0) 8457 90 90 90  
> Ireland (2): +44 (0) 8457 90 91 92  
> Ireland (3): 116 123  
> Israel: 1201  
> Italy: 199 284 284  
> Japan (1): 03 5774 0992  
> Japan (2): 03 3498 0231  
> Kenya: +254 20 3000378/2051323  
> Liberia: 06534308  
> Lithuania: 8-800 2 8888  
> Malaysia (1): (063) 92850039  
> Malaysia (2): (063) 92850279  
> Malaysia (3): (063) 92850049  
> Malta: 179  
> Mauritius: (230) 800 93 93  
> Namibia: (09264) 61-232-221  
> Netherlands: 0900-0767  
> New Zealand (1): (09) 522 2999  
> New Zealand (2): 0800 111 777  
> Norway: +47 815 33 300  
> Papua New Guinea: 675 326 0011  
> Philippines: 02 -896 - 9191  
> Poland (1): +48 527 00 00  
> Poland (2): +48 89 92 88  
> Portugal: (808) 200 204  
> Samoa: 32000  
> Serbia: 32000  
> Singapore: 1800- 221 4444  
> South Africa: 0861 322 322  
> Sweden (1): 020 22 00 60  
> Sweden (2): 020 22 00 70  
> Switzerland: 143  
> Thailand: (02) 713-6793  
> Ukraine: 058  
> United Kingdom (1): 08457 909090  
> United Kingdom (2): +44 1603 611311  
> United Kingdom (3): +44 (0) 8457 90 91 92  
> United Kingdom (4): 116 124  
> United States of America: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)  
> Zimbabwe (1): (263) 09 65000  
> Zimbabwe (2): 0800 9102

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As Kingfishers Catch Fire (The On Call Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795784) by [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey)




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